What are you gonna do now, George?
by Lord Gargoyle
Summary: My version of the last LAST chapter of “Of Mice and Men”, by John Stienbeck.


A/N Hi! It's me, Insane Frog, here to tell you about my latest English Assign - Um, I mean, story. Heh. So. It's kinda due on the 5th, but whatEVER! I like it. It's my version of the last LAST chapter of "Of Mice and Men", by John Stienbeck.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Um, Duh? If this was mine, well, I'd be the opposite sex and quite dead by now. Stupid. Get it right!  
  
***  
  
The town was starting to fall asleep. The tips of the rooftops were stained with a deep orange, dripping down into a dull purple, then shadow. Lamps were flickering on in the windows of some houses, and the candles created a drowsy glow in each house. A man stepped onto the porch of his house and took a smoke on his cigar. He tapped the ashes onto the wooden planks and admired the cool night air before going back inside. A fading breeze ruffled the tops of the trees and a bird chirped sleepily in one of the higher branches.  
  
Slim and George walked wearily into the bar. George looked deadened, a blank look in his eyes. Slim sat on the stiff bar stool and signaled to barman. George followed suit mechanically.  
  
The bartender came up to the two men, wiping a glass. "What can I get ya?"  
  
"Usual," Slim said. He glanced at George, and put his hand to his mouth in a conspiratorial whisper. "And a stronger one for him." The bartender nodded and walked to the tap.  
  
"So. George," Slim began. George looked up woodenly.  
  
"I s'pose you wanna know how, huh?" He said distractedly. The bartender returned with the drinks. Slim regarded him with a nod. He sipped his beer before answering.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
George traced the rim of his glass with his finger, ignoring the liquid inside.  
  
"I jus' done it, is how." He stopped tracing and drew his pinky in circles on the condensation on the glass.  
  
Slim paused again before he spoke. "I know you jus' shot 'im, George. Why? I thought you two was gonna roll up a stake?"  
  
George sighed. He straightened up in his seat and picked up his drink. He continued on softly.  
  
"Sure, Lennie was like my brother. Annoying as hell, but like family. Couldn't let 'im go without . . . "  
  
George paused. Slim waited patiently as the man sitting next to him took a sip to clear his throat.  
  
"I had to shoot 'im, Slim. Wasn't fair to either of us. If I'd jus' let 'im run off like that, he'd've been alone." George sighed again. "Not ta mention being chased by Curley an' that lynch mob. If they got him alive then they woulda hung him. If not.well, he'd've been shot."  
  
Slim nodded. "Yeah, I can see how it'd be better if you.well, shot 'im." He lowered his voice. "Must be lonely now."  
  
"Lennie's not gonna be lonely," George said with a chuckle of disbelief, misunderstanding Slim's question. "He's in that place now - with the rabbits."  
  
Slim tapped his lip thoughtfully as George took a gulp of beer. "I think that all men are lonely sometimes."  
  
"Everyone wants somthin' to call 'is own." George said smartly, swirling the drink in his glass. "No man wants to be alone."  
  
"So why are we then, George?" Slim asked. "If nobody wants to be lonely, why are we?"  
  
Silence fell for a minute.  
  
"Ya know what I think?" Said Slim, holding his glass.  
  
"What?" George asked, sipping his beer but not looking at Slim.  
  
"I think that everyone's afraid of everybody else."  
  
George snorted into his glass. "Thas stupid. I wasn't scared of Lennie."  
  
"You weren't?" Slim asked. "He's. . . he was mighty powerful."  
  
"Okay. . ." George admitted. "Mebbe I was a bit scared of him. . . but only a bit."  
  
"Yeah. . . people are scared of power," Slim said, taking his first sip of beer all night.  
  
"Like. . . whaddya mean?" George looked a bit confused, but paused to let Slim go on.  
  
"Like Curley and his wife. They was always scared of each other. Cuz Curley got more power over our jobs and 'is wife got power over us guys." Slim paused for a minute and took a drink. George nodded for him to continue.  
  
"It's all about pride. Even us who don't got much power, we want to show that we ain't so powerless."  
  
"I don't think people are meant to be alone," Said George. "But I don't think they're meant to be together, either."  
  
Slim nodded again, and the only sounds were from the rest of the bar - muted talking, clinking of glasses, and the smell of alcohol.  
  
"Why do you think he done it?" Slim asked suddenly. George looked up abruptly.  
  
"Done what?"  
  
"Done that.gone and broke Curley's wife's neck."  
  
George sighed. He drank deeply and placed his glass down on the table. The little bit of liquid sloshed at the bottom.  
  
"Lennie never done nothin' in meanness, 'e's just like a kid. Don't know the difference between right an' wrong. Don't know the difference from good an' bad." George picked up his glass again and finished the remaining drops.  
  
"Reckon most don't, when they're like him." Slim added. He hadn't touched his drink. "Whendja meet 'im?"  
  
George shrugged. "Dunno. When we was kids? Met his Aunt Clara. She died, asked me to watch 'im for 'er. Dunno if I shoulda. Then I wouldn't've had someone trailing me and losing me my jobs.but I woulda been lonely. But somewhere I knew this was gonna happen. So should I have come to the ranch, Slim? Was it right?"  
  
Slim was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke. "I dunno if it was right, George. Seemed right at the time - Lennie, big strong worker, you, a smart clever little guy. Surprised me. Didn't know lonely people could meet each other and stop being lonely; didn't seem real."  
  
The two men sat there for a minute.  
  
"What are you gonna do now, George?"  
  
"I don't know, Slim. I don't know." 


End file.
